The Cricket Technique

In the room, a boy looks up to his father sitting on the bed. It was night outside and well, the father was just squirming about in his bed, constantly changing positions and even adjusting his head on his pillow. The father was taking an early nap, as he was fantastically tired from another day at work. The mother of the boy was outside attending a meeting with her friends.

Poor father, thought the boy. He really needs some sleep.

After some thinking, the boy had an idea. Said idea of course was also a secret of his that he kept from his father. The secret was only a few days old as opposed to months or even years, but it was still a secret nontheless, at least until he has to reveal it to his father.

The father was an old man. Granted considering he has lived a long life until now, raising a child and having a wife who is equally as hard working as him.

The door creaked as somebody came in. It must be him, he thought of his son. Who else lives in this house other than himself, his wife and his son. Yet the father's eyes grew big as he saw what was with his son.

Crickets. There were many of them.

The father slightly jumped in his bed, even as some of the crickets were moving to the front of his bed and both sides. "What's the meaning of-"

The father's ears caught the noise of the crickets. All of them were constantly making their noises together at first, but his eyes caught his son waving his finger and hand around like a conductor operating an orchestra.

"Son how come there's crickets-" the father felt his world was spinning, yet his body slowly felt relaxed as he yawned and went down onto his bed in a sleeping posture. Soon after he was snoring.

Yes! The son thought deep down inside. The Cricket Technique for sleeping worked. "Finally I can watch TV late at night."